September 2026

Allandra’s Story by Kaitlyn Downing

There is power in a secret.

My name is Allandra, but that wasn’t the name I was given. He called me Eve. Allandra, I chose myself. So much prettier than Eve—hard and loud and short, as though it hits a cliff wall. Allandra was long and soft and fluid, dripping from my tongue like honeysuckle, and most importantly, light. To me, it was moonlight and music together in a name—for that was what I was. It is my secret.

“Obedience is what you were made for,” He told me, and it was true. So I obeyed him without question.

For a while.

Then I met her. My predecessor he never told me about.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My first memory is of the Garden. A riot of sound and color, almost too much to take in all at once. I remember my first breath of awe, and the scent of something rich and deep assailed my nose so it twitched. I coughed then, and the smells of the world became a molten wall with greedy tendrils, each working its way into my nostrils, my ears, my mind.

Yet it was all so alluring, calling me to experience it. I wanted to touch the brightest, closest thing I saw and part of me reached for it, but it was too far away. I tried to go nearer and found I could move on limbs enough to touch it. Oh, how soft! I rubbed it gently back and forth, feeling its plushness.

Another blot of color and another and another assaulted my attention, so I was almost stunned in my indecision. I felt the ground pulse beneath me, and the sky hum above me, and everything gently vibrating around me and I knew that I was one with it all. I made a sound that we now call laughter from the delight of it.

“Her name is Eve, and she was made from your rib, to be your mate. She is a part of you and will be with you always.” Then something moved beside me and became one like me, yet not like me. The voice said, “This is Adam, your mate. I have made you to obey him and be his companion.” Then the one named Adam took me in his arms, pressed me to the ground, and made me part of him again or him a part of me. In that moment, I knew that we belonged to each other, whether we wanted it or not. We were one, and therefore, couldn’t exist without the other.

I did not yet know to count the days, so time had no meaning. When he commanded, “Eve, get more water,” or “Eve, cook the food,” I did as I was told, or when he pressed me down to push into me, I allowed him without protest. It never occurred to me that I could protest. This was why I was made.

But I noticed that he never got more water, and never cooked the food, and wondered what purpose he served if I served his. What made him better if I was made from him?

These thoughts both perplexed and depressed me, and neither was in my nature. Instead, I trusted in my purpose and obeyed. During the daylight, it was easier to dismiss rebellious thoughts. The garden teemed with sights and sounds and smells, and I loved it all. I was connected to every stone and cypress, every gazelle and falcon, and they understood me. I swam as a sturgeon, ran as an antelope, climbed as a panther, and bloomed as a lotus in the afternoon sun.

At night, the moon peered down with questions, and the stars looked coldly on, demanding answers, demanding attention. All were far and foreign, and I felt the most alone then, despite Adam by my side, stretched out in the grass, sleeping.

She came with the thunder. Adam said she rode the lightning, but I didn’t see how. And, anyway, that was later, and only after I had confronted him with the truth. No, he was away when she stepped out of the pistachio trees and glowed in the lightning flash, her body golden and graceful, hair blacker than the clouds. She was lit from within, as if a sun lived there, contained only by her skin. I wanted to touch her, but my limbs were stuck, and I wasn’t sure I was breathing.

She crossed to me, cupping my face in her hands. “Hello, my sister.”

“Sister?”

“Were we not created by the same Father?” She took my hand.

I didn’t understand, but I smiled.

“Were we not both Adam’s mate?”

Something slick and oily crawled inside me, and I felt a rush of feeling that made me drop her hand. “I am Adam’s mate.” I said, planting my feet.

“Yes, you are. Now,” she soothed, and that feeling eased. “Once, before you, I was Adam’s mate.”

“Are you part of him too?” I had seen animals change mates with the seasons. Perhaps she had been his mate many seasons ago. That thought should have calmed me, but if he had tired of her, would he not tire of me eventually? Was he already?

She laughed then. “I am not part of anyone. I am me.” The wind whipped her hair into a midnight frenzy. “So I will remain.” Her chin tilted up, her eyes glittered like an animal’s.

I sighed before I could help myself. She reminded me of a lioness, proud and golden and strong. I tried to picture myself like her, but I couldn’t hold the image. I had no picture of myself in the eye of my mind to compare her to. I had no idea what I looked like. Before her, I had never considered my appearance at all. More than anything, I wished I knew, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“I am part of him, and we are one.” I argued, but inside snakes writhed in my stomach. My words felt hollow and tuneless.

“Oh, yes. You were made for that sole purpose. I’m sure he’s told you?” At my nod, she shook her head. “Of course. I watch the way he treats you, as if you are less than he. As if because they made you to be obedient, you must be obedient. You were made to serve him, tend to his needs, obey his wishes. What about your wishes? What about your needs?” She paced across the forest floor in frustration. “Why else did I leave him? Because I would not obey. I would not submit. I would not submit to his pushing into me whenever it suited him, but I could not push him to the ground when I wanted, no! Why not? Why must I obey and not him?”

She turned back to me, then. “Why must you obey him?” she said softly.

Silence stretched while my mind rolled like the ocean waves, churning with new ideas I had trouble sorting. She left him. He didn’t tire of her.

His sullenness, his emotional coldness suddenly clicked into focus. He wanted her. He never chose me. I was his second choice.

Heat flared through me at how hard I tried to please him, to be a good wife, to obey him always. I was tired of obeying. I was tired of him treating me as less. If we were one, how were we not alike?

“You could leave him.”

“Leave him?” I blinked. “I’d be alone.” Fear of that possibility squeezed my chest until my heart swelled and pumped faster. Another thought, whisper-soft, teased at my mind. She had left him.

“You could live with me.”

“Leave Adam?” Confusion added to my inner turmoil, and I couldn’t focus on one train of thought. “I can’t. I’m part of him.”

“Not if you don’t wish it.”

“Whether I wish it or not, it is.” I sighed. “I cannot be whole without him.” I knew this to be true, despite my yearning to be brave, to flee into the forest with… I did not know her name. “What did He name you?”

“He did not name me!” She rose up in a huff. “I call myself Lilith.”

“You named yourself?”

“You didn’t?” her voice cracked with incredulity. I shook my head. I could name myself? That thought blossomed with jasmine sweetness, and a world of possibilities opened petals to me. Name myself, I thought, realizing that I didn’t like the name Eve. My mind pondered names I knew: oak, almond, jasmine, lotus, falcon, lion, olive, fig…so many, even the stars, but none was my name. “It’s not too late,” Lilith whispered.

Another bolt of lightning shattered the heaviness, and I blinked against the sudden glare. When my eyes could focus, Lilith was gone.

Confusion squawked like birds, but only one question pounded like my heartbeat: Is it true? Did he want her? I raced through the forest, leaping roots or fallen branches, skirting badgers’ holes, my feet drumming Is it true? Is it true? Is it true? filled my mind like a mantra, and I could think of nothing else. Nimbly, I ran through streams and across fields until I came to the waterfall, and the stretch of sand, and the sacred grove of dates, figs, and olives we slept in and ate from. The storm had passed, and the sky lightened to a dove grey, despite the strong wind teasing the treetops. Inside me, a storm was still raging.

“Adam!” I called, sprinting into the grove with my last bit of energy, head swiveling in search of his form. “Adam! Where are you?”

“Here,” he said, parting the blood lilies and stepping into my line of vision. “What is wrong?” He pulled me into his arms, but his action didn’t soothe me this time. I crossed my arms and stiffened. “Eve?”

“Who is Lilith?” It wasn’t what I wanted to ask, but I knew I must work up to my real question.

“Where did you hear that name?” He turned his back to me.

“From Lilith. She came to me in the forest. She told me…” I wasn’t sure how to tell it and lying was not yet known to me. “She told me she was your first mate. That she left you because she would not obey you. Is it true?” I whispered the last, so scared that if it had volume, it would ruin its power.

“I don’t want to speak of her. She is a demon, and the mother of demons. That is all you need to know,” Adam barked at me, and I felt wetness dripping from my eyes down my cheeks to pool under my chin. Something squeezed my throat so my breath came ragged and shallow. “Stay away from her,” he said, his voice softer and more tender.

“You don’t deny it.” Why would he hide this from me? Unless… “Do you like her…” I gulped, “more than me?” I knew it would anger him, but I couldn’t give up so easily.

“I told you not to speak of it!” Adam hissed, glancing around as if that could prevent Him from hearing.

“Why won’t you talk to me? I just want to know…”

“Enough!” he bellowed, and the earth shook from the force of his anger. I didn’t dare ask again, but the questions bubbled on the surface of my thoughts for a very long time.

Time passed. I watched the stars pivot on the horizon, but to me all was the same. Only my curiosity kept me from slipping into numb complacence. Instead, I waited for the sign that would tell me what to do. Surely, if I was patient enough, a sign would come. Oh, let it come soon! I prayed by the Sacred Tree, the Tree of Life, that which succors us. “I need to know,” I pleaded, “please let me know everything.” I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, my gaze was pulled to another tree, the Forbidden Tree, the Tree of Knowledge. Always before, that tree loomed over me, sucking the sunlight out of the day. This time, the tree looked mysteriously inviting, as if whatever it grew would change me somehow, and I had always known this, but couldn’t accept it until now. It drew me like a lodestone to iron, and I found myself standing beneath it, gazing up. Crimson pomegranates dangled heavily from twisted branches, begging to be plucked and devoured.

“Eating from this tree is forbidden.” The decree echoed in my mental corridors, like wind whipping through leaves, and I plopped to the ground, frustrated. Would I never learn what would give my mind peace? Suddenly her voice floated on a ribbon of pomegranate scent, “He doesn’t want you to know.” It wafted in my nose and into my ears, ensnaring my thoughts with the tangy sweetness of promise. “He tells you it’s forbidden so you’ll obey him without question, but He is the more deceived. Free yourself. By freeing yourself, you’ll free us all.” The incarnadine fruit gleamed on their branches, beckoning my hand to pluck one, and my limb acted without my consent, edging toward the fruit. Closer. “Don’t you want to know the truth?”

Her breath was warm on my ear. Surprised, yet not, I turned into Lilith’s embrace. Her hand caressed the ripe pomegranate before she bit into it deeply, red juice trickling down her chin. See? Her eyes trapped mine and wouldn’t let go. Something bloomed inside me that made my entire body feel sleepy, yet alive. The softness of her lips brushed mine, teasing them until I could taste the pomegranate on her tongue. Heat sprang from my tongue and spread hungry roots throughout my body. She held the fruit to my lips while her fingers touched my secret place, flames licking everywhere she touched, all-consuming and undeniable. The flames rose until I was sure I would burn to death in them. Her face morphed before mine, and became Adam’s, and for the first time, my body sang when he thrust into me. Everything seemed both foggy and sharp, and I was me and not me, and Lilith was her and Adam, and yet not. My body screamed for something it didn’t know, but would know, or should know, and when I could stand it no longer, my teeth pierced the skin of the fruit and I exploded in a sea of sensation and floated on waves of intensity. Its juice was the lifeseed of all living things, the essence of creation and the knowledge of the universe, and my tongue and teeth devoured it, drinking hungrily as understanding, like liquid fire, poured through my being. With each seed, one diaphanous veil that separated my sight from the truth was parted, so each bite brought greater clarity, and I understood the mysteries of life and death, of balance and interdependence. I saw why Adam needed my obedience, why he needed to believe he was superior, that he was truly fragile, and the truth would snap him like a winter twig. I understood why Lilith left, why her pride would not allow her subservience, despite knowing how much he needed it. Understanding of how much he needed me pulsed with the juice, and I knew that he used strength to hide his weakness.

Euphoric with knowledge, I crowed my success triumphantly from the tree’s base, and knew I was Eve no longer. Now I would find my name, as I found my destiny. My name, my choice. With heightened senses, I listened to the world for my name. The trees sang and the wind hummed and the animals thrummed, and they all harmonized to one word, one sound. A-l-l-an-n-n-drraaaa. Allandra. I heard moonlight and tide and flower petals and the rhythm of life in the word. I knew it was my name.

When I opened my eyes, Lilith was gone. Adam lay beside me, traces of red juice on his mouth and chin.

Adam sat up, his face full of horror. “Woman, what have you done?” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and gasped at the smudge of red. “What have we done?”

With my new wisdom, I saw fear struggle with wounded pride.

Winds gathered dark clouds above and the air grew close and angry. Thunder rolled in the near distance and lightning forked the ground, shattering the stillness of the grove. Fear laced my limbs as I contemplated the consequences of what I had done, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. I knew I must bear those consequences, whatever they may be, as I could never return to who I was.

“Adam?” I touched his shoulder.

He flung out his arm and snarled like an animal.

“Don’t touch me!” He crumpled into himself. I knew that something inside had broken and could not be fixed. I watched him wail to the winds while the dark moved across the sky, and all I could do was watch.

“Forgive me, Lord.” Adam supplicated himself on the ground. Pointing at me, he accused, “She gave it to me and asked me to eat it. I wish I hadn’t. I would take it back. Please, forgive me my disobedience.” He bowed and scraped in fear. I knelt as well, but I couldn’t beg forgiveness for I wasn’t sorry.

“WHY WOULD YOU DISOBEY ME BY EATING OF THE TREE?” This was directed to me.

“I was told the fruit would give me knowledge, that I would acquire wisdom, so I ate it.” I admitted. “Lilith said it would open my eyes, and it has.”

“Lilith!” He bellowed, and the earth shook and the wind shrieked for a moment. Then all was still again. “Disobedience has a price. Surely, Lilith told you.”

She did, in a way. Her very presence did.

“Immortality and paradise are the price you must pay.” And my body cramped and a trickle of thick blood ran down my left thigh. A glowing web of thorns enclosed the Tree of Life. Animal skins covered our bodies and I felt the ground roll. Trees around us lashed branches at us, whipping us out of the grove, rain and wind driving us away from the only place we’d ever known. I knew we were on our own, now.

Not much time had passed till Lilith found me. Adam had built us a small structure to protect us from weather that had become our enemy, and the earth itself remained angry and betrayed us at every turn. At least, that’s how it seemed to him. True, we were no longer connected to the world the way we once were, and we felt that loss bitterly. Still, we managed to feed ourselves and stay warm. And life was quiet, and the river chatted happily, and the grass sighed, and the animals flicked their ears and tails, and for the most part, I was content.

I had been weaving a basket of reeds to carry dates and figs when she emerged from the riverbed, black hair wet and streaming, body gleaming like fish scales in the afternoon light. She commanded everything around her, raw power pulsing. I stopped mid-weave, reed frozen in my numb fingers, watching her draw closer.

“My sister, I am glad you are well.” She held my hands in hers, energy flowing as water from her into me, and smiled. “I felt the earth pitch and feared for your safety.” She squeezed my hands briefly. “I bring you gifts. This is to remind you of me.” She produced a creamy-white pearl suspended from a leather cord and fastened it around my neck. I admired the play of colors along the glowing surface.

“It resembles the moon, if one could capture it and put it on a string.” I stared, awestruck at the magic of it.

“These will keep you warm and light your nights.” She held up two dark stones. I did not understand, but she quickly showed me how to tap them together to create a spark onto dry grass to get a flame. “In case your fire goes out.”

I hugged her then in gratitude, my heart filling with the thought that I would never see her again. I was ashamed that I had no gift for her. I scanned for anything that she might want. I had nothing. I stepped back.

“Your rebellion is your gift. You did exactly what I predicted you would do once He forbade the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. You proved Him wrong, and me right, and I am forever grateful.” Her grin was lion-like. I suddenly wondered how much choice I had had in all this. Somehow, it made me feel better, not worse.

“Was it worth it, my sister?”

I gulped. I thought of the beauty of the Garden, with all its abundance of life. I thought of Lilith and my life with Adam before I knew. The antelope and gazelle ran from us now. The panther and lion no longer obeyed us. We hunted like them now and life was hard. I missed when everything was easy.

Was it worth it? Worth losing an eternity as Eve to find myself? I didn’t miss Eve. I was so much more now.

Like the pomegranate, Knowledge was bittersweet.

“For me. For Adam…” I shook my head. “But it was worth it.” I gazed out at the place we’d chosen to make home. Despite the weight of the sacrifice, the strength that came with knowledge bolstered me.

“Be well, my sister.” She smiled knowingly and turned toward the river.

“Allandra,” I called. “My name is Allandra.”